


Swayin' to the Lighthouse Blues

by Tentabot



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Bioshock AU, Dirty Talk, Gender Dysphoria, Little Brothers, M/M, Masturbation, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3710392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tentabot/pseuds/Tentabot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"It's so...pink."</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"Do you like it?"</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"No."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swayin' to the Lighthouse Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emono](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Would You Kindly, Daddy?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2796002) by [Emono](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/pseuds/Emono). 



> **_[CW: gender dysphoria and casual cissexist language, anxiety, past alcoholism, and allusions to underage*.]_  
> **  
>  *These scenes involve legal adults but if you aren't comfortable with dynamics that replicate a guardian/younger charge sort of relationship, it's best you don't read.  
>   
> I've had this drafted up for a good month or so now, wanting to get it out ages ago, but blocks and uni. Glad to have it out now though, even if the ending is so obviously rushed.

_"It's so...pink."_

_"Do you like it?"_

_"No."_

-

It's a series of bright lights, a dizziness that doesn't stop with every breath of air taken, and a moment of tight skin that feels uncomfortable. Jeweled fingers are stared at in a form of disbelief, long and slender and not possibly his own, wide hips and plump thighs that were a creation for profit and perversion. Everything is so real yet he feels so fake. Shattered glass and a drowning sensation, the world above used to be a dream for nighttimes he thought himself a tad too pale, hot suns and light golden tans.

There's a constant throbbing in his ears when he hears the waves crash on the shore, loud as a drum as it hammers into the cliffside where rests a place he doesn't know he can call home. He'd only seen buildings so tall from a far distance inside of a glass tunnel surrounded by sea shrubbery and he wasn't even at the base of the structure. He would stare directly parallel to it, sigh softly at the soft lights that dispersed in the water, trace letters with a fondness as he recalled days he visited it with his darling little Big Daddy.

The lighthouse towers over him and for a moment he is greeted by the familiar edging fear of things far larger than him. His Brothers rush ahead of him, one grinning and laughing and curious, and the other in an awe that holds a lot less fearful wonder that was on his own face. It's only with a gentle nudge that he dares take a step forward, pointed shoe and short heel digging into damp earth that feels scarily unfamiliar just like his own body. He trembles with each step but he keeps his head held high and makes definitive strides to distract from his shaking. Someone had to show some decorum.

His hand holds his guardian's arm and the man doesn't say a thing as he leads his charge into the building. A few looks are cast but otherwise any excitement the Brother should have is reserved for the sake of being the leader of the boys that he gathered into the bosom he doesn't yet own. Just like how he coddled them and led them at Rapture. Just like home. Damn the notion that home is where the heart is; his heart may have been with his Daddy but his home is where familiarity came like the sweet sounds of vaudeville blues through his phonograph.

Selfishness in every thought and fiber he has in his being, Michael presses on and upward to top floor where the other boys were peeking through dusty boxes and sneezing and laughing. It’s all so new to them despite the age that is apparent on the walls, thick cobwebs passing through ringlets of dark copper and dust another canvas for the graceful girl to run a finger across and make a picture. It was a disgusting sight, he likes to think, but he knows with a churning feeling in his stomach that he’s seen worse back home. Back beneath the sea that was so much noisier on the surface world.

The boys coo and usher him towards something similar to his audio device at home and his heart aches as he reaches for it, brushing the rim of the dusty horn and pulling the contraption out himself. His Daddy makes a step towards him to help but Michael shakes his curly head and places it on the floor, right in between them all, and hovers on his knees to just admire something he is glad to be in the presence of. He scootches over to find a record, any record, to listen to something and hear something that isn’t waves against rock, and he does and he tries not to rush the delicate process of placing it down on the turntable and moving the stylus to the outermost groove.

There is the initial static and Michael waits, breath a shake in his throat. He sits still, back straight but shoulders still almost up to his ears, and the older men in the background are ushered out by Geoff.

“We need to sort out supplies,” he murmurs, but Michael can still hear it and it feels too loud but any other sound made is drowned out little by little when the needle scratches the vinyl and hints of instruments sound out from the conical speaker.

A breath hitches in Michael’s throat and he relaxes a fraction, his boys taking either side of him and he is brought into a close embrace by them both. He doesn’t relax more than what he is but there’s a start. He can learn to get used to their situation. Maybe. So he wishes.

-

Weeks pass across darkened eyes, features sunken as he takes to a glass of red every meal, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (They found a dusty crate, probably an import, a short while after settling and he never looked back.) His Daddy looks on with a small frown but allows the boy the comfort after such an experience. Learning all he did was the most traumatic to himself inwardly, which he felt selfish for after hearing his beautiful sunshine, Ray's, former plight before the life the lived below slow waves of a deathly quiet. He is reassured that his own feelings are his own and he sniffs at the sentiment, waving his hand derisively and reconfiguring his air of superiority so that it at least outwardly seemed like he was quite alright.

His fellow Brothers take to their new surroundings much quicker than he thinks he can. There is sun and surf and a land unexplored that may hold even greater traces of civilization ahead than his own technologically and artistically wonderful land below. He tries his best to integrate into this new world. He holds the company of his sweet boys close, relaxing beachside with an umbrella shading his pale, beauty-studded skin. Sunglasses, an accessory he never thought he would ever use practically, cover his eyes and they crinkle in a hurt smile when he watches the lads splash and play. No heat singes his collar seeing Gavin bare of his shirt or Ray with his newly sewn shorts clinging to his finger.

Michael becomes not-so-blissfully aware that his thighs tighten, the portion of his body he had learned to come to terms to doesn't tent just yet but the magazine his was fanning himself with is abruptly put on his lap. He wants to scowl but instead his features sent as unreadable, not wanting to alert anyone of his discomfort. His boys run over anyway, dripping wet and grinning so brightly that even with his shaded glasses it could blind him.

"Come join us in the water, Michael!" says Ray.

"It's the most amazing thing when you're not living beneath it!" adds Gavin jokingly.

Michael stiffly shakes his head.

"What if I burn? Or drown? I can't very well swim and don't exactly wish to tire myself out to learn," he replies to them. He expects their faces to fall but they don't. Instead they seem to widen their mouths and grab his arms, one each, to drag him towards the shore.

Michael makes a deal of shrieking, his arousal forgotten in favor of his despair, much to his relief, but he didn't wish to leave his seat. The water is too cold and too salty and his legs buckle under his own weight in it but he leans heavily on his lads and they make sure to keep him upright. He trips over though, gasping in water as he feels what he thinks is the tendril of a monster grazing the underside of his foot, but it's only a bit of seaweed. Gavin laughs and Michael beats on his chest as he presses close to him to not fall prey to the flora again.

The waves rock them slowly and Ray wades in the water to press himself to Michael's back. The affection given is a breath of fresh air, more relieving than all the air he had breathed upon coming to the surface, and he moves a hand to Ray's thigh to give it a soft squeeze while his other arm hooks around Gavin's neck.

"Sing something for us, please, Michael?" begs Ray so sweetly it makes Michael's heart throb with regret for not being cordial with them for so long since leaving their home.

"Why, whatever shall I sing while I am so cold?" he answers cheekily, still shuddering but warming up a lot more since first submerging. The boys respond by pressing themselves closer to Michael and he can feel the warmth already. He smiles.

"How about that one song. Back home. They had it on radio for a long while," Gavin suggests. The way he smiles at Michael, excitement in his eyes that he sees in Ray's but brighter, he gives a feigned exasperated sigh and starts.

_"See the pyramids along the Nile..."_

-

Slowly, very slowly, he gets back into the swing of things. He lessens his drink and departs for daily adventures with his boys. Things seem alright during the day. The night and morning, not so much. He goes through torturous hours at a time he can’t place so early to decide what he feels. Sometimes he strips bare just to stare at himself in a broken mirror. His silhouette is so feminine, just how he grew it himself, how he made sure to grow with corsets that are tight around his waist. He was a child and experiment, and that revelation will never truly be something he can be at peace with, but he tries to go back to feeling like the times were simpler. He wants his beauty back and the sticky stiffness that ran through his limbs to go away.

By the time everyone is awake, he is standing outside of the lighthouse, out on the top where a broken light doesn't shine passed him when he moves. And it's alright. It's like being underwater again, the awkward air filling his lungs like what smoke is supposed to do. His eyes shine, watery, when he gets small quiet moments to himself up above. It's a sanctuary he stretches out in. His skirt billows in the cold wind and his skin runs with little goosepimples that take the ache out of his joints. It's free to feel so on top of the world, losing a voice to the air that voices laughs and cries he keeps in to keep himself together.

Sometimes a friend will join. It's more usually Gavin and Dan, sometimes separate and sometimes together, and they just talk. They converse about what had happened, what's going to happen, just things that Michael can't help but feel thankful for through the bitterness of people feeling like talking to him helps him. He understands though, and appreciates, and then retreats back downstairs to the Daddies planning something so they can move to another location soon for more supplies and the Brothers plan to go out and about and explore again, or just lie in the sun and bake there.

Michael joins his boys, making a request of his Big Daddy to bring out the phonograph to the beach. The old man concedes and the little darling presses a kiss to the man’s rough stubbly skin with a small smile. Geoff seems to relax little by little with these small allowances from the boy. He feels like he's getting pieces back, and that's just enough for him. He can't care less about the fact he and Michael haven't had a romp in a long while, as long as that boy is safe and coping. His dear, sweet girl. He wanted Michael happy again. And, admittedly, it's why he also never wanted to seek the surface in the first place. There's a comfort in that old normalcy.

He is happy for a good part of the day, allowing his skin to taste the heat of the real sun as he dances with his Brothers and laughs the clouds away. It feels good. Relieving. They talk about the future with fingers laced together and forget about pieces of the past without heavy hearts. It’s all so refreshing and Michael finds himself almost dreading such peace. It comes all at once, too special a moment to have come from strife that it had to be wrong. There must be a catch to his ease.

Retreating back to solitude is something he doesn’t do though. Instead, he smiles through it and perseveres through the feeling. He seeks a moment to breathe later, when Ray and his guardian prepare a meal and Gavin and the human go scavenging for more supplies out in the woods opposite their beacon.

Michael watches the newer pair together, how Gavin bounces on his heels with his hands behind his back. He smiles up at Dan and the man grins back before dropping a quick kiss on Gavin’s nose. The boy squawks in surprise and nudges him with a pointy elbow but they both laugh together and poke around plants before disappearing into more trees and shrubbery. Michael frowns, a small downward twitch of his painted lips, and then sighs. There’s a bottle peaking out of an open crate and he leans over the crate, tracing the neck of the bottle. He pushes away from it after a moment, striding over to his audio device and replaying the record already place on the turntable.

The music plays and he relaxes just a bit more. He shifts from foot to foot, swaying from side to side, and lets another small smile draw his lips upward. His eyes still look on sadly to the happy couple chasing birds out of trees. He can hear them laugh and Gavin’s playful complaints. He can also hear the steps behind him and his smile widens more in amusement than in any joy he can reach his heads to find.

“They’re not like us,” he calls, drawing his shawl tighter around his body. The steps falter before continuing, louder and with more purpose than the sneaking that was done earlier.

“No one can ever be like us, sweetheart,” Geoff replies softly, staying a distance behind Michael. A safe distance. Just so the boy feels like his personal space isn't breached. Geoff didn’t want that.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know…”

The silence between them was light, comfortable, the first bit of personal peace between them in an eternity. Geoff wants to savor it a bit more closer to his boy, his fingers flexing by his side, but he doesn’t move forward. His head snaps up when Michael breathes out a soft laugh behind his hand and turns to face Geoff.

“Dance with me,” he says, not as sharp as a command but an order nonetheless that Geoff follows obediently.

Geoff’s hand is rough in Michael’s, but he still enjoys the large warmth of it and how delicately it holds him. And how despite that precious touch, it’s still something firm to hold onto. Something to ground him. He feels especially grounded when Geoff moves his other hand to his waist and slowly, step by step, side to side, guides them into a gentle sway. Geoff, for the first time in the long while they had been based in the lighthouse, sees a smile directed at him. All for him. And it’s a small thing, lacking the teeth a large laugh has and the wide eyed brightness that excitement gives, but he still drinks it in and presses his forehead to his sweat boy’s.

They get to enjoy just that slow dance. Michael breathes slowly, soft sighs out of plump lips Geoff wants to kiss just as slow. The song is close to its end but they are still swaying, the heightened waves crashing in  the background and making the air a bit colder. Goosebumps litter Michael’s porcelain skin. He leans into Geoff’s large and warm body, hands moving to his shoulders while Geoff moves his hands to Michael’s hips.

“They are so natural,” Michael murmurs over the waves and dying music. Geoff nods in agreement to things he knows Michael will explain further. Not that he has to. He already knows.

“They are as genetically altered as us yet still, they are so _real_. So uniquely their own as if they weren’t _made_ for all this,” the boy continues, “So dysfunctional yet so truthful. Not like the perfection that was you and I.” Michael leans back to look at Geoff, caresses a rough cheek, and frowns thoughtfully.

“We’re not perfect, princess. You are,” Geoff says, “But us? Together? Nah. We’re broken coincidences that fit alright.”

Michael smiles.

“You can be such a poet sometimes,” he simpers, but he giggles after and the statement loses playful condescension. The tone was something he hadn’t used in so long and while it was short-lived, Geoff enjoys the return of a memory. The thoughtfulness never leaves the boy though and he frowns again. The hurt shows this time. “But I was made to be exactly this. A little doll for you to love. Your baby girl.” He sneers but it’s weak. Tired. He sighs. “I’m not at all what I grew up thinking I was. What brokenness do you fit into now?”

The swaying doesn’t stop but the noise of their conversation does for a time. Geoff pauses and thinks and Michael doesn’t find the silence unbearable. It’s actually exciting. He appreciates the growing anxiety that builds up in his stomach and makes his shoulders shake in twitches. Nervous tics he has yet to control.

“Would you still like to be my baby girl?” Geoff asks, looking down at Michael before adding, “Or baby boy?”

“I- What-?”

Michael is confused, obviously, as he never thought it an option. Terminology swapped so often, a choice in what he preferred is a strange offer that is appreciated. And he loves it but thinks it unnecessary. Though, he is also so used to what they had. What they did. What he wishes they could do again. Even if his bodily discomfort is the basis of his lack of reliance on his Daddy, a man he had spent lifetimes with, it feels reassuring to have such an acceptance for himself. He is still outwardly surprised by Geoff’s suggestion, silent, and watches as the man continues.

“I mean that we can still fit. Some piece might be inside out, that’s all.” Geoff shrugs, not sure how to really word what he’s trying to approach.

Michael could feel the tears prickle the backs of his eyes and a grin trying to make its way on his face. He had to push away from Geoff to hide it because a large smile on his crying face would look ugly in his opinion. Not at all classy. Too messy. A blubbering ball of outwardly conflicting expressions. Geoff looks concerned and tries to open his mouth to say something, stepping towards his sweetheart. Michael raises a hand and shakes his head. He doesn’t need the help and it amuses him that Geoff still feels the need to treat him like fragile glass since leaving Rapture, even if admittedly he needed such a reprieve from having to be the adult of the boys.

“Oh, I’m fine, you worrywart. Absolutely fine!” Michael says, voice pitchy as he wipes his eyes with a handkerchief he plucked for his skirt pocket. “Stop it with that look on your face! Your emotional sensitivity to myself is making overly emotional. God, you must be the damned perfect one!” A laugh bubbles from his throat and he chokes on more tears and curses: “For Christ’s sake, can I stop crying?!”

Geoff looks more confused than concerned now and Michael smiles at him, still watery and messy from the makeup that ran from his eyes. He still smiles.

“You just care so much for defect. I am so fake, Geoff. Not a real girl, not even a proper strong boy, and you still seem to love me. Love! I feel so unreal and this feels so much the opposite,” Michael says, huffing and shaking his head in mild irritation as he accepts a hug that Geoff offers. Geoff laughs softly and shushes the shakes in his voice and the shuddering in his body.

“You are whoever you want to be and whoever you feel like being, baby,” Geoff murmurs, “And if you’re gonna be my girl then I’ll make you feel just like that, and if you’re gonna be my boy then that’s all you gotta say you are, even when you rouge your cheeks and put on them pretty petticoats.” Geoff smiles but Michael can’t see it. He can hear the fondness in his voice though, warming him from his arms to his toes.

“I still feel like I want to be a girl,” Michael says, voice hoarse, “But the looking glass for that fantasy has certainly shattered.”

“Oh baby, if you feel like a girl then that’s what you are. And if you want to change anything about yourself to make you feel more comfortable then, Christ, I will do that for you. All for you. You’re my charge. My Little One. And programmed or not, I may be connected to your body but I am in love with you.”

Michael hiccups and rubs his cheeks on Geoff’s shoulder, laughing softly.

“Oh God, Geoff, you’re going to make me cry again.” He smiles.

“Better you get that out positively rather than mull this over for another month.”

“Thank you...Daddy.” Michael presses a kiss to Geoff’s cheek and Geoff feels that he can live with that much when his sweetheart moves away.

And then Michael presses another kiss to his lips, and it’s soft. Chaste. Perfect. Even though it tastes like salty tears and half-released sobs Geoff can still taste Michael and his smile.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Geoff whispers against Michael’s lips when the boy wraps his arms around his protector’s neck. Michael whines, brows furrowing as he pushes for something firmer. Something he can feel in his accursed body. And while Geoff is firm, his assertiveness only holds to slow them both down. To not rush things Michael wants to rush. To relearn. To remember. To feel.

“I don’t need you to coddle me this time, Geoff,” Michael hisses, biting his lip and breathing hard on Geoff’s mustache. He’s hitched up, not-so-flush against Geoff’s pelvis, and wants to rock slowly into the heat he once knew. He does just that, in fact, but Geoff doesn’t relent. He knows it may be what Michael wants but it isn’t what he needs. And Michael wishes things weren’t so complex like himself.

“It’s not coddling - you know it’s not - so don’t complain.”

Michael crinkles his nose and groans, tilting his head when Geoff moves to slowly kiss along the pale column of easy-to-color flesh. Geoff’s tongue moves along it slowly, his mouth sucks blossoms, and Michael moans in gratitude for the rush of arousal that hits him from the stutter in his heart to the firmness in his underwear. It takes him so suddenly and makes his thighs tense but, God, it’s been so long and he hasn’t felt so seamless and new and as calm as silk in ages. He wants it all. The experience. The memory. He wants his Daddy to give it to him and make him never forget.

“You’ll get your due, baby doll, but take it easy. I wanna treat you just right.”

“You always do,” Michael mumbles. The slower they go the more self-conscious he starts to get. He wants to hide his bottoms in the soft gathers of his skirt. He is aroused and it peeks out, and while he is on the smaller side it isn’t a thing you can be oblivious about viewing. And when Geoff mouths softly at his neck and lets his fingers wander, dancing over skin that is faintly spotted with the graces of an angel’s lips, he tries not to whine so loud.

“Wanna treat you how you deserve,” Geoff rephrases, “Wanna massage the knots outta your back, have you moaning softly without a pleasurable thing happening-.”

“ _Daddy..._ ”

The beautiful sound of desperation that comes out of the boy rings and only Geoff can make out the silence then shuffle that was happening downstairs. He doesn’t mind it, and he’s sure their companions - no, family - won’t mind so much either. Regardless of their surroundings and surrounding company, Geoff moves them to a more comfortable area by a bundle of comforters and exotic pillows - one of the many makeshift nests of a bed they have in the tall building. Geoff’s hands move to Michael’s thighs, closer down to his knees rather than his groin, and it’s such a cruel touch that makes Michael gasp and arch for more.

“Make you feel like my precious baby girl, smooth over your skin. You’re so perfect, baby.”

“ _Daddy, please!_ ”

Michael could recline back into the soft cottons and silks of the pillow nest but instead he leans into the older man, wanting to feel more than just the brush of fingertips over the edge of his stockings.

“Scatter kisses over your small chest, suckle those pink buds until their as plump as your mouth when you moan my name-.”

Michael is shaking, already leaking through his panties, and Geoff was only just beneath where the material begins to cover the skin of his most intimate area. His recently dried cheeks are wet with fresher tears and beads of cold sweat. Wave after wave of temperature change and released tension makes his cheeks puff and shuddering breaths leave him. He moans for Geoff, his title and his name and an assortment of endearments and insults to just makes him do more.

“For the love of all that is good, _Geoffrey Ramsey you will fuck me_ ,” Michael hisses, hand shakily reaching for Geoff’s collar. Geoff can only smirk.

“I’ll move lower, fingers still plucking at the strings on your chest that’ll make you sing, and have my teeth drag over your flat stomach, suck a few marks into your hips like bruises, before I even get to breathing on what’s making you really wet.”

He doesn’t at all relent on the commentary and it pleases Michael to the core even through his impatience. Geoff only removes his panties down to his knees but nothing else happens. No fingers wrap around his length or tease his hole he wants to slicken up with Geoff’s saliva when he eats him out- God, he wants it so bad it blinds him to his previous insecurities. And that may be what Geoff is aiming for, goal achieved, but that still isn’t enough. Michael’s dark blush and glossy eyes isn’t the only thing Geoff wants to see.

“How close are you just by hearing me, Michael? Tell me, baby.”

“ _ChristIhateyou_ \- so close,” Michael answers in a rush. His lashes fan against the tops of his cheeks when he shuts them tight, his teeth peek over his bottom lip when he bites it, and his little cock twitches when Geoff’s fingers change direction from their path.

“Then come for me, princess. Touch yourself for me and make a mess in those pretty hands of yours.”

And Michael obliges immediately. If his Daddy isn’t going to touch him then he sure as well will. He grips his prick tight and lets it leak over his finger, his slick wetting him up and making a mess by his base where his hair was soft and his balls were tense. He doesn’t come immediately undone but a few firm strokes down and he is finished, spent, and Geoff looks at it with heavy eyes. He watches the way Michael’s fingers twitched over his oversensitive little dick, how delicately he held his limpness. He draws his knees up, biting the nails on his free hand not occupied with toying the pink head of his person.

Geoff is completely drunk on Michael’s keening sounds, the way his mouth parted like it was trying to moan and smile through his orgasm. His brain is fuzzy with the smell of Michael’s sweet sweat that made his body shine in the orange of the setting sun. Geoff felt full with a feeling of accomplishment, and appeasement. He has his sweetheart, his baby girl, his Little Boy, shaking in strong tremors that wracked him whole with his giggles as he felt the glow of his orgasm take him. It made him happy to know that he could help with it.

“Feeling good, princess?” Geoff asks. He may see it but having Michael wipe the tears from his eyes and sweat from his forehead with a blinding smile was the best form of confirmation.

“Oh God, Daddy, never better since being here,” he replies, sniffing on sobs that hadn’t come out yet but still giggling on with a smile.

Michael feels warm all over, right down to his toes he wiggles in his shoes, and he wipes off his spunk onto the edge of his skirt (“Ah, it wasn’t my best and prettiest anyway.”) and finally leans into the soft nest’s silks.

“You look beautiful,” Geoff says softly, smiling widely at the wider smile on his boy’s pink lips. His cheeks were crimson, a darker shade that the whites of his eyes, but the puffiness that will be there later would at least have a source of happiness that sorrow.

“You made me feel that way.” Michael gently pulls Geoff down to press their foreheads together, breathing the man in through his own fulfilled scent. He brings Geoff into a sweet, full kiss, and feels tired but new and absolutely Geoff’s in a body that is entirely his own. No pinching. No discomfort. Just a sated feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knows it may be visited by insecurities but he has his lads and his Daddy.

“Thank you for going slowly,” Michael adds, “I didn’t know how much I needed it like that. It was…” He giggles. “It was amazing.”

“You are amazing.”

“You old sap!” He swats at Geoff and they laugh together, a moment they enjoy for all its simplicity.

“We’re back!” hollers a call down below. Michael casts a fond smile, something smaller than his grin at Geoff, at the staircase. There is still a long ways to go, Geoff thinks, but Michael is just adjusting to the reality outside of his post-coital haze. He needs to freshen up. Or…

“Be down in a minute, dove!” Michael responds. He turns his look to Geoff, a stare that makes the man feel both nostalgic and lustful. He doesn’t trust it but he supposes he doesn’t have to. He trusts his boy and that’s enough.

“Now, let a lady teach you how we show our gratitude…”

-

Gavin peeks up the stairwell from it’s base and tries to force down the grin that creeps on his face. He bounces over to Ray and drags him to a hug against his chest, back and front pressed together in an intimacy they are very much used to. Ray laughs lightly and looks over his shoulder.

“What brought this attention on?” he asks. Gavin nuzzles Ray’s neck and hums happily.

“Michael called me ‘dove’.”

Ray smiles.

“It’s been so long, has it?”

“I should hope he shares some of the attention he gives with us.”

“I do miss him, birdy.”

The two hum and giggle and dance with each other to a lovely lilting song. It moves their bodies from side to side, an arrangement accompanied by waves and cliffsides and the creaks of a rusty engine moving a broken light to peer over the sea. 

 

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  [tumblr](http://www.robotentacles.tumblr.com)   
>  Hit me up for vamp!Ray, Dark!X-ray and Vav AU, or other drabble-suggestions. Despite me not publishing chapters/stories so often, I can still certainly talk about my AUs or write things for them.


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